contemplative Well, I have been working on this story approximately... forever now. So long in fact, that I've come to fear it. There comes a time when you just have to post, come what may. This is that time.
It can be found both below yonder cut tag, and also on my website.
I owe many people thanks yous for their feedback and hard work on this story, including
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marycrawford, aka_arduinna, elynross, marycrawford, flambeau, ltlj, and let us not forget marycrawford.Seriously, without
marycrawford, this story would languish still on my harddrive.Title: Love's Labors
Fandom: Hercules, the Legendary Journeys
Rating: slash, pg-ish.
Warnings: Caveat Lector
I will sing of Heracles, the son of Zeus and much the mightiest of men on earth.
--Hesiod
"Hey, Herc," Iolaus gasped from somewhere behind him and to his right. "Do you think maybe you want to slow down a little?"
"We've almost got it, Iolaus!" Hercules said sharply. "We're not slowing now, when we can finish this for good. If it gets away and has time to recover, and hide, we'll just have to go through this again in six months." He put on more speed, reached the hill's edge in three more huge strides, and found himself confronted with a rocky slope that curved around, and down, into a grass-bottomed ravine. At the bottom of the hill, against an almost sheer wall of granite, sheltered their foe: ten feet tall and over twenty feet long, tail included, with a thick, leathery hide that had deflected almost any spear the people of Axius had thrown at it.
Hercules' own spear had left its mark, as well as his sword. The beast's left side was badly torn and bleeding, an injury serious enough to cause the monster to rethink its attack in favor of an amazingly swift retreat, given its size and bulk. They had been chasing it for three miles now, and Hercules was ready to end this.
Stealth was impossible. Small avalanches of pebbles preceded him down the hill with each step he took. Alerted to his presence, the monster brought its head around, heaving huge bellowing breaths. He had a glimpse of one huge, rolling eye, set in a red-rimmed and sunken socket, before it brought its strongest weapons to bear – three enormous jagged horns that protruded from its wide, flat face – and charged.
Hercules swung his sword up, stepped forward, and went down flat on his back, as half his footing swept away under him. He lay flat, too stunned for a moment to even curse his own stupidity, and was saved only by the fact that his prey was as tired and desperate as he was. It moved too fast, and its eyes, set on the sides of its skull, failed to track where he'd fallen. Its leathery stomach stretched in and out like a bellows, only inches above his face, as it shifted slightly, puzzled by his disappearance. Iolaus screamed his name from somewhere above. Hercules grimaced. He imagined that from Iolaus' vantage, it might look like he'd been well and truly squashed.
He held his breath as the monster turned its head towards Iolaus' voice. He had a choice now – stab from below or just try and get himself out of this ridiculous position. The stomach was a tempting vulnerable target, but did he really want to be flat on his back underneath a creature this dangerous when it went mad with pain? He looked over at one round tree-trunk like leg. No, not really.
"Herc!" Iolaus' voice was much closer now, and the sound of another small pebble-storm started up. The decision on how to extricate himself abruptly became urgent as the monster started a turn towards the approaching new threat. One enormous leg lifted and began to descend again, only inches from his head, and he found himself reflexively tucking into a tight ball. Two more monstrous steps crunched rock and dirt, sunlight found his face, and he discovered he'd closed his eyes and that opening them again required a lot of blinking.
He rolled to the right as the bulk above him moved left, and found that at some point along the way he'd lost his borrowed sword. This really wasn't going as well as he had hoped.
"HERC!" And here came Iolaus, clearly only a few yards away. The monster was picking up speed, trying to charge his partner, but was hampered by the terrain and the short distances. Hercules spotted a glimpse of purple and leather, as Iolaus gracefully evaded its bulk and continued on his way.
The color was obviously just as attractive to the monster. Hercules marveled again at how quickly such a mass could turn, as it swiveled and followed his apparently oblivious partner. He heaved himself to his feet. Iolaus spotted him as he rose from the ground, and relief chased fear and tension from his mouth and eyes. "Thank the gods! Are you hurt?" He started towards Hercules.
Leathery grey flesh and sharp horns rose up to loom above him, and in that instant, Hercules found his sword and moved without thought, fear choking his throat closed. He dragged Iolaus around and behind himself even as he lunged, the blade going into the easiest, choicest target – the monster's eye, and past that, deep, deep into the skull.
For a moment he thought the entire cliff side would come down on them. The scream blotted out everything. He knew Iolaus was shouting, a mere foot away, he could see his mouth moving, the look in his eyes. The air was full of flying pebbles that stung his face and arms from all directions. It occurred to him his sword was gone again, and if this hadn't done the trick, he was in trouble.
And then almost as quickly, it was over. The monster lay on its side against the slope, injured eye down, legs unmoving and breath slowing, as though in sleep. Within seconds the movement had ceased completely, and the remaining eye had rolled to the side and dimmed.
The breath of relief he found himself heaving seemed to come all the way from his toes, emptying his lungs along the way. "Well, that was certainly something, but at least it's over… even if I suspect that's the last I'll see of that sword until the seasons have come and gone again." He shook his head. "What were you thinking, anyway, walking past it like that? Have you lost all sense of self-preservation?"
He swung around, prepared to lecture on carelessness to alleviate his own fears, or mock in pre-emptive retribution if necessary, to divert attention from his own foolhardy dive beneath the monster's belly.
He was not prepared for the look on Iolaus' face.
Hercules' face ached.
He was beginning to wish for a handy Gorgon to freeze him solid, because he didn't think he could keep up the polite smile for much longer. Occasionally he would realize he was grinding his teeth, and stop himself. Beside him, Iolaus had long since given up the pretense of caring, and was yawning widely, slumped a full foot lower in his chair than he should have been. Luckily, no one was really paying that much attention to him. On the other side of the table, Jason's chief advisor was still arguing vehemently with the lead diplomat in the visiting delegation, while Jason sat next to him, ramrod straight, but with a look that implied he had eaten something that was disagreeing with him severely.
"I don't know why we're here," Iolaus muttered.
"Shut up," Hercules hissed in response.
"They don't care, Herc. You're here as window decoration and… why am I here again?"
"Shut up, Iolaus. This is a very important treaty. We're here to show honor to the presence of our guests."
"Oh, yeah? What was that treaty for, again?" Iolaus was watching him from the corner of his eye, a small twist of amusement at the edge of his lips.
"Travel… trading rights… they were… just shut up."
It had been hours, and this chair was too small for him, like so many chairs were, and his knee was locking up from trying not to accidentally kick anyone under the table. Jason had asked them to help this go smoothly, and he was going to do exactly that, but by the Gods, these negotiations were tedious. He couldn't remember the last time a group of diplomats had haggled the details so much. Every little detail and every possible provision, they were demanding be set in stone in advance. And Iolaus was right, he didn't understand why their presence had been requested, since they'd more or less been ignored after the initial round of greetings.
Movement caught his eye. Iolaus was snaking out a hand toward the carefully constructed fruit arrangement in the middle of the table. When they'd started this discussion, the fruit had been bright, fresh, and artfully arranged to entice nibbling, if not outright gorging. In the humid, oppressive, non-circulating air of this official room, the melon was losing its color, the grapes were shriveling, and the pear slices were going brown. It was an incredible waste, Hercules admitted, but their guests had done nothing but sip from goblets of water, declining anything else, and no one else could help themselves without giving offense.
"Iolaus!" he whispered.
Iolaus' hand hovered between the figs and the persimmons.
"Iolaus!"
The hand had decided on the figs.
Hercules kicked out in the direction of Iolaus' legs, and felt his foot connect with something too solid to be flesh. He had a moment of triumph at the shocked look on Iolaus' face as the chair shuddered, and then a moment when time slowed down, and realization hit too late, as the chair leg broke with an audible crack, collapsing and taking Iolaus down with it – but not without a fight. Iolaus' hand, once intent on figs, scrabbled desperately for purchase, found the edge of the fruit tray and dragged the entire assembly off the table after his vanishing form. Fruit sprayed everywhere. Hercules closed his eyes and tried to will himself elsewhere.
When he opened them again, he was still without the godly power of instantaneous transportation, there were seven shocked faces staring at him, and he was covered in slices of orange. Something cold trickled down his forehead and started to drip from the tip of his nose.
"Um." His smile was fairly weak.
The villagers of Axius held a celebration, of course, starting with a parade that led them back from the woods where the beast's body still lay, and through the center of their small village.
Hercules didn't bother to argue for once. These people had suffered greatly, and it showed in their faces; the tight, haunted, pinched looks they wore despite the cheers and thanks spoke of hard times and losses. They needed this for themselves; it was more catharsis than reward, a way of gaining some relief, and moving on with their lives.
Alone, at the edge of the crowd, a small girl was sobbing – deep, wracking sobs, while she clutched a small wooden toy tightly to her chest. Hercules felt a pang somewhere deep. He ignored Iolaus' grasping hands as he tried to pull him back to the center of the street, pushed his way through the circle of men surrounding them despite their surprised protests and worried cries, approached the girl and squatted carefully besides her. She couldn't have been more than five.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked gently.
"Thebuba! Thebuba!" she wailed, and sobbed harder.
"The…" Hercules looked up, bewildered, at the woman who was hurrying over.
"Alcina!" She grasped the girl by the shoulders. "I'm so sorry, sir. She's just a child, she doesn't understand."
"Neither do I," Hercules replied, bemused.
"It's just… just her word for our… for the monster. That's what… the children called it."
"Oh! Well, that's all right then." He turned his head back down to the child. "Thebuba's gone now, Alcina. He can't ever hurt you or anyone else again." The girl opened her eyes for the first time, looked at him, threw back her head, and screamed. Hercules frantically backed up, losing his balance, and falling backwards with a thump. He stared, distraught, as the girl's mother scooped her up and began to hurry away. She turned back for just one moment. "She's just a child! She doesn't understand! Please forgive her!"
"Forgive her for what?" Hercules called after, but the woman had ducked around a wooden structure and vanished, the child's cries diminishing with distance.
"Hercules, come on." Iolaus was at his arm, tugging him to stand up. "The village leader is waiting for us. There's nothing you can do for her… her mother will explain it to her. She'll be okay."
"But, Iolaus," Hercules turned a bewildered face toward him. "What just happened?"
"It's okay," said Iolaus. "It's just the crowd. Think how it would be if you were little, and your town were being terrorized by something like that. Every time she's seen men march off before, it's been because something bad has happened, or was about to happen. She just doesn't know what a parade is."
"Oh," Hercules felt foolish, and began to pick himself up. Something in the dust by his foot caught his eye. The girl's wooden toy. "Hey, she left her—"
"Hercules!" Iolaus was pulling now, and gesturing with his other arm to someone further along the road. "We're being rude!"
"Since when do you care about manners?" Hercules asked testily. He snatched up the toy and climbed to his feet. "Okay, okay, I'm coming." He tucked the toy away. He'd find the girl's mother later, and return it.
Iolaus laughed so hard, and was so incapable of stopping, that eventually Jason gave up on yelling at them and just threw them out.
"Just go home! Maybe if you're not here to remind them, we can salvage something from this!" He stormed off in the direction his steward had hustled their guests, in search of less fruit-covered premises.
Hercules grabbed the giggling, prone Iolaus by one arm, hauled him to his feet, and then rather desperately down a hallway and out of the castle as fast as he could. Iolaus hung from his arm like a large, lumpy, gasping sack of flour.
They stopped just before the front gate, so Iolaus could curl up on his side on the ground and try and recover his breath, and Hercules could pick the remaining segments of orange from his hair.
He carefully aimed each piece at Iolaus as he pitched them away.
"Could you stop, already?" he demanded.
Iolaus waved one arm at him weakly, wheezed a little, and flopped over onto his belly.
"Lord Hercules! My Lord!"
Hercules jerked around and found an overdressed figured hurrying down the path toward them. "Oh, no, what now?" he asked the air over Iolaus in dismay.
"What?" Iolaus asked the packed dirt.
"I don't know… it's one of the members of the delegation." Hercules prodded Iolaus in the ribs with his leather-toed boot. "Can you just… I don't know… roll into the bushes and disappear or something?"
"Excuse me?" Iolaus was pure indignation.
"You don't think you've caused enough trouble? This visit is important to Jason."
"Hey, who exactly kicked that chair--"
Hercules prodded him more desperately. More of a kick, really. "Just roll!" Iolaus rolled, with a muffled curse as he hit a particularly thorny patch of bush, and vanished only feet away.
"Lord Hercules!" And here was the lead diplomat, having escaped from Jason's attentions, and Hercules could not, for the life of him, remember his name. Dromun? Draumen? From the Province of…? He hastily pasted on yet another polite smile.
"It's just Hercules, actually, Lord, er, Lord Drooaaaum." Oh great. That's just great. Smile wider. That's what you meant to say.
Lord Drowhatever didn't seem to notice. "It's very magnanimous of you to go title-less, of course, Lord Hercules, but even we in Carystus have heard tales of your deeds and heritage. Are you leaving so soon? We would like to apologize if there has been any offense given, any at all, that would cause you to leave at this time, and ask your forgiveness."
Hercules blinked, honestly astonished by this turn of events. A strange squeaking sound was coming from the bushes, but he chose to ignore it.
"We were afraid we were the ones who had given offense, with, um, that unfortunate incident. Back there. With the… fruit." Where was Jason when you needed him?
"And, if you'll forgive my saying, I don't think we were really adding all that much to the negotiations. We hope we haven't caused you to think less of the hospitality of our city." Hercules tried for a winning smile, but suspected he ended up with something along the lines of lopsided.
"It was inexcusable of us to presume on your time as we did." The diplomat dismissed his attempts at apology. "We were honored by your presence, and look forward to an agreement which will benefit us all and help both our lands to prosper."
"Oh, well. Yes. Of course, of course." Hercules floundered. Lord Dromunorother leaned in, grasping him by the upper arms. Hercules looked down, startled, and suddenly deeply uncomfortable.
"We would like to express to your our admiration and thanks for your part in these talks." Intent dark eyes gleamed, the Lord's face mere inches from his own.
The bushes had gone suspiciously silent.
Hercules cleared his throat. "You… would?" He tried to take a step back, but couldn't find a way to do so that wouldn't end up pulling the man off balance.
"Indeed." The moment stretched and stretched, and just as Hercules opened his mouth without any real idea as to what might come out, Lord Drometh stepped back and reached around his back. Hercules prepared to flinch, in the absence of any other obvious response. Lord Dromenar flipped his cloak back with a flourish, and whipped his arm around with surprising speed and accuracy for a deskbound legislator, a small, wooden box with intricate carvings appeared; inside it nestled a delicately painted amphora brought to bear for Hercules' inspection.
He leaned forward to get a better look, relieved by the absence of anything sharp or threatening, and impressed with the craftsmanship.
"They're magnificent work. Lord Dr… er… you can't mean for me to accept such a generous—"
"We could present nothing less, nor would our God forgive us if we tried," the Lord pressed them into his arms. "It is no less than our duty, and we thank you for your time." There was a flourish of cloth, a gesture that was half bow, half wave, and the man turned on his heel and was gone back down the path before Hercules could find the words to respond. He clutched the treasures to his vest and stared dazedly after him.
"Wow!" Iolaus burst up from the foliage, and lunged for the gifts. "That was just bizarre. Is that wine?"
"Is that all you want to know, after… after that?" He tried to turn away from Iolaus' prying fingers, but gave up half-heartedly after a few seconds, and let him take the amphora away for examination. It looked far too fragile to get into a wrestling match over. "Don't you even wonder what that was all about?" He traced the carvings on the box lightly with his finger. Grape vines and Dionysus, in amazing detail.
"I try not to wonder too much about politics. It makes my head hurt. It's all the same anyway, they're just trying to woo Jason through you. Although, for a moment there," Iolaus paused to sniff the amphora's seal, "I thought it might be a more personal wooing going on. This is wine, and from the looks of this, it's probably worth half this city. Maybe it was worth the trip out here after all."
Hercules heaved what he knew to be an overly dramatic sigh. "Is that all that matters to you? The wine? After all of…" he gestured wildly with his free hand… "and then the… and did you notice how close he got? Do you think that's some regional thing? Because that was a little… well, let's just say I was with you on that point. All you care about is the wine?"
"It's important to have priorities."
"I don't drink wine." Hercules suspected his polite smile was beginning to take on a strained quality.
The Axians had treated them to quite a feast, for such a small community. Hercules had to admit, he enjoyed a few comforts these days, as their journeys took them further and further from civilization. The food had been excellent, and the musicians surprisingly talented for such a far flung village. They'd left the barbeque pit and outdoor tables and moved in to the local tavern, to avoid the arrival of evening insects. Unfortunately, the personality of the tavern mistress was no substitute for the lovely serving wench who had been making eyes at them all through the meal.
"It's all the way from Ambracia," she told him. "The best we have! We might not be the biggest village, but we can provide for our guests."
"No, really, I'm sure it's wonderful." Hercules carefully slid the glass back to her. "It's just… it's never been to my taste, really. It's a personal thing, not… I'm sure it's excellent wine."
She took the wine back, her expression making it clear she didn't believe a word of it. "You'll be wanting mead, then."
"Well, er. Mead is actually rather similar to--"
"The brew tastes like pigs have bathed in it." She crossed her arms as though defying him to argue with the statement.
"I don't suppose you have any cider…"
Insulted dignity and stubborn irritation gave way to wide-eyed disbelief. "And would you also like some milk to go with that? Are you a newborn babe still at your ma's teat?" "The brew will be fine. I'm sure it's… I find local beer to be quite good, usually. Superior to what you can get in the city, really. Really." He had been told by none too few women that he had a winning smile, but it was clear no proof of that would be found here.
She tossed him one final unimpressed look, huffed, and passed the glass of wine along to another customer before vanishing into the back room. Hercules sighed and settled with his back to the bar.
The crowd was surprisingly reticent. While he was used to a certain degree of hero worship and awe, he was also used to a certain degree of braggadocio and tale-telling from younger men who wished to see what he was really made of, and if they could match him; insolence and sneering from older men who didn't really believe anything bards told them anyway; and flirting from women. While the villagers seemed friendly enough, there was an underlying sense of reluctance and strain in the faces around him, as they sat in groups of threes and fours, occasionally glancing his way, and talking in hushed voices. With the exception of the tavern mistress, no one seemed to have the requisite courage to break bread with the man they'd summoned to save them.
He turned his head, searching the room for Iolaus, but his friend had vanished, drawn away by some local petty official. Hercules imagined he was probably talking the man down from offering them some kind of reward.
He felt awkward and far too noticeable sitting alone. He cast a glance at the nearest group of men, farmers from the look of them, with hands and faces leathery from hard work and exposure to sun. He shifted uneasily. There was still no sign of Iolaus.
Well, someone was going to have to make a move here. The mistress had returned, beer in hand, scowl on face.
"How about a round for the house, on me?" he asked.
Her eyes grew huge. "A round for the—"
"I'm good for it!" he assured her.
She stared at him for another moment, before snapping into action. "Yes, of course, or course. A round for the house." She swept an entire armful of empty mugs off the counter in one easy, well-practiced maneuver. "I'll get right on that." She hurried towards the back once more. "That fool, Marnes," he heard her spit out on the way. "Making promises…" He comforted himself with the thought that he was not the unlucky Marnes, then took the initiative, and slid his stool down the floor, until he was adjacent the nearest group of men. They shifted slightly to acknowledge his presence.
"Mikkos." Mikkos introduced himself brusquely. "That's Talaos there, and Pelonis and Medus." The men nodded at him.
"I'm Hercules," Hercules offered, for the sake of politeness.
"We know," came Medus' curt response.
Hercules laughed awkwardly. "Yes, well, guess that wasn't really necessary. But you never know, I could have been Iolaus!"
Not so much as a flicker. Hercules took a desperate swig from his mug to hide his consternation. Their hostess arrived then, laden with tankards that slopped over their sides. She set the armful down on the table with enough force to endanger the rickety structure, and splash Pelonis. The men eyed her in surprise.
"On the house then, isn't it?" she snapped at them.
"What're we, in Elysium then?" Mikkos gave her a look of incredulity. "Since when in your life have you ever—"
"His treat," she snarled.
"Ah!" Understanding dawned on his face, and an actual smile broke out, twisting his cheeks into unpracticed positions. "Well, in that case, blessings on you, Raisa!"
Hercules watched confounded, as the cheerful words seemed to throw Raisa into an even deeper rage. Pelonis and Medus were quick to rear back as her hand shot out, and found only Talaos close enough to clip on the side of the head, before she whirled and stormed back to the bar, followed by shouts and whoops of laughter from the men. Talaos rubbed ruefully at his ear.
"Ah, don't mind her then." Mikkos retrieved a mug for himself. "She's just like that."
Hercules nodded, happy to coast on the goodwill of the gesture, despite any mystifying behavior being exhibited. Village folk just did not get out enough.
"So then," Mikkos started, clearly more willing to attempt a conversation now that he had something to help him past his normal reserved state. "Can you tell us…" he hesitated, appearing to reexamine his question. "Been traveling much?"
"A little," Hercules admitted, with a grin. "Apollonia to Dyrrachium to Epidauros, and what feels like every village in between."
"Epidauros?" Talaos straightened up. "I have family in a village not far from there. Lyehnidnus. Did you visit there, by any chance? Can you tell me any news of how they're faring? They had a terrible harsh winter, last year."
Hercules nodded. "We didn't spend much time there, just passed through, but they were having a spring festival, and seemed to be doing well. Had a new Mayor, I think the old one had just passed on."
If there was one thing small villages longed for, it was news from the rest of the world. The men leaned close, listening attentively, and nodding, no doubt trying to remember as much of the news as they could to pass along. They grilled Hercules for details until his voice ran hoarse, and then they shouted for Raisa to bring them more beer to help him along.
"Where'll you be heading next, then?" Mikkos finally asked, leaning back and resting his hands across his belly.
"I'm not entirely sure." Hercules frowned. "I think… Iolaus said something about Jason wanting us to head to Naissus. Said we didn't have the details yet though, we were waiting for a messenger."
"Jason?" Mikkos repeated back at him, blankly.
"The one and only! He advises my brother Iphicles now, mostly, with affairs of state."
The look grew blanker.
"Of the Argonauts," he added, irritably. "Golden Fleece. Had a big ship named the Argo?"
"Aaah." Comprehension slid slowly and painfully across the craggy visage. "I 'member the story. Ain't he dead now though? And I heard he'd turned drunkard. Was a long time ago, and men aren't what they once were—"
"Some men are still exactly what they were!" He slapped the table with the flat of his hand, shaking mugs and spilling beer. "Jason is a great man. He advises the King of Corinth on the running of the country. He's saved countless lives and done any number of great deeds, and all you choose to remember are the hard times he fell upon after a terrible tragedy befell him and his loved ones. He was a hero, and you should remember and respect that!"
There was an uncomfortable shuffling around the table, and he became abruptly aware that the level of conversation in the rest of the room had fallen sharply, as his own volume had risen and caught their neighbors' attention. A movement to one side caught his eye, and he noted the arrival of Raisa, her knuckles gripping the handles of the mugs so tightly they'd gone white. He glanced around the table, but no one seemed willing to make eye contact. Mikkos was hunched over, staring at the sticky, scratched up table top. "I meant no disrespect then. Truly." His voice was low and gruff.
Hercules could feel his ears turning red, and coughed, embarrassed. "Sorry, that was a bit passionate. He's a friend and he… means a great deal to me."
Mikkos nodded tensely and lifted his head, but seemed to be focused on something just past Hercules' shoulder.
The high-pitched titter from the other end of the bar was almost a welcome distraction. Hercules turned to spot what turned out to be an entire clutch of young women, dressed out in what would have been everyday casual attire in Corinth or Athens, but was undoubtedly meant to impress and encourage in this backwoods village. They were not so subtly casting their own glances in his direction.
He felt an easing in his shoulders, and the first stirrings of interest. Anything to get out of this uncomfortable conversation, this tavern with its surly, strange, unfriendly townsfolk and their odd manners. And if the way out involved a few hours with a warm and willing set of curves, well, what could be a better celebration than that?
Halfway between Corinth and Thebes they found a farmer and wife willing to lend them their barn for the evening. The farmer knew who they were, and offered them his own bed, but the house was tiny, and neither of them was about to put the owners out of their own bedroom. Hercules felt this arrangement was superior, anyway, and could tell Iolaus agreed. The farmer's wife understood what the farmer did not.
"There's only one spare mug, I'm afraid." She handed it to Iolaus.
"More than enough," he assured her, shifting the basket of food in his arms to make room.
"Have you got enough blankets there then?" She peered at Hercules.
"This is enough for bedding," he replied. "It's a warm evening. We would've slept on rocky ground tonight if not for your hospitality."
"I found the lamp." The farmer came around the side of the house, lamp and flint in hand. "It should be safe enough, even in the barn, as long as you don't set it near the hay."
He was a large, leathery looking man, as tall and broad as Hercules, but with a surprisingly anxious and gentle nature. "If you won't take the bed, we could lay out the blankets by the fireplace. Surely…."
"Nico!" His wife took the lamp from him and passed it on to Hercules, while shooting him a stern look. "Let them be, they're healthy lads, they'll be fine in the barn."
"But, 'Lassa…" he protested, darting a nervous half-awed look in their direction.
"Go on, go around and finish up with the chores, so you're not up and about and bothering them when they're trying to sleep, will you?" She sent him back in the direction he'd come with a firm shove between the shoulders and turned back to her guests. "You'll be okay till morning, then? You know where the earth closet is, and the well?"
"We're fine," Hercules promised. "Couldn't be better if we were back at the palace. In fact, I'm fairly sure we'll be far more comfortable here, all things considered."
"Well, then, we'll see you in the morning. And if you need anything, just come round in, whatever time it is." She gave them a wink. "I'm sure I can find what you need."
Hercules followed Iolaus' lead across the yard, past a goat that eyed them suspiciously, but decided they weren't worth the trouble of chasing, past a plow that Iolaus had to stop and mutter over ("we should take that back, and I could fix the blade for him"), and finally into the barn, where they looked around and silently and immediately agreed on the loft. Hercules simply tossed the blankets straight up and through the hatch, and Iolaus hung the basket around his neck and handed Hercules the jug of beer while he climbed up. Hercules handed various items up after him until he was empty-handed, and followed.
Together they spread the blankets out, one on top of the other, for padding, and then spread out the contents of the basket. Iolaus had the amphora out and open and was sniffing it suspiciously.
"I might have wanted to save that for an occasion, you know," Hercules objected mildly.
"This is an occasion," Iolaus responded. "Or it will be, soon enough. Anyway, this smells fruity." He stuck out his tongue, touched it to the rim of the amphora. "And tastes syrupy," he wrinkled his nose and handed it back to Hercules. "I'll stick with the beer, thanks."
"Ah, Iolaus, you've got no palate," Hercules grinned and accepted it back. "Have some of this beef, it's really good."
"Immf gofff," Iolaus replied through a mouthful of bread, and then swallowed. "Nothing wrong with my palate, I know the value of a good home brew over that fancy crap, that's all."
"Mmmm." Hercules sniffed the wine. "You may have a point. Pass that mug over." He restoppered the amphora.
Iolaus leaned over, passed the mug of beer, and tore off a chunk of bread for him. After a moment's thought, he handed over the rest of the bread, and scootched around to sit next to Hercules, leaning against the bale of hay Hercules had dragged over for back support. "Now this," he accepted the mug back, "is more like it."
They ate in companionable silence, listening to the farmer finish up, his wife call him in, and the animals, wild and domestic, settle down and still as the sun slipped down and darkness blanketed the area, leaving them in a small pocket of shaky gold lit hay radiating out from their flickering lamp.
Iolaus passed the mug back to Hercules, and finished off the contents of the jug directly.
"Trip was hardly worth it, was it?" Hercules mused. "We did more harm than good. Got a few gifts out of it, ruined all sorts of delicate negotiations…"
"Oh, you know what they say."
Hercules raised an eyebrow at Iolaus. "What?"
"It's the journey that matters, not the destination." Iolaus' grin was huge.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Hercules felt himself smiling in return. "I'm sorry, you know, it's just Dei, and the kids, and hell, Jason calling every new moon for idiot politics…"
"No, I know." Iolaus' voice was soft, and serious. "Family first. But I've missed…." He reached out, and incredibly softly, drew one hand along Hercules' arm.
"Yeah." Hercules found his answer was shaky. "Me too." He put the mug down carefully, and pushed it far to the side. It was their hostess' only spare. When he turned back, he found Iolaus had pushed jug and basket far to the side as well, and was blowing out the lamp. Darkness swallowed their small patch abruptly, and left them blinking until the transition was made, and the moonlight coming through the open side of the barn was enough to let Hercules see the curve of Iolaus' cheek.
"Had our number, that Thalassa," Iolaus said.
"We're really going to have to do something for her. Maybe the wine." Hercules suggested.
"No, something nice would be a better idea," Iolaus' voice was full of wicked glee, and Hercules snorted, and he reached for the body next to his, and drew it down, into softness, and darkness, and comfort.
~~~
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